Cold.
Cold was all she felt.
She felt herself coming around, and all she felt was cold. She should have been able to feel other things, surely. What happened to her body? Why couldn't she feel her legs, her arms, her whole body?
She supposed she had been in some sort of accident. One of those car crashes that left people paralysed from the neck down. She struggled to remember how she had come to be here – she remembered walking to her car, putting the key in the ignition … after that, nothing. Nothing except the Update Alarm and occasional flashes of metal knives. Maybe that had been her surgery. She thanked her lucky starts that she was, at least, alive.
Irony can be cruel.
She was vaguely aware of some people nearby. Their voices sounded strange – processed. Like she was hearing them through headphones. They sounded tinny and small, but she could make out two voices – a man and a woman. Maybe they were her nurse and doctor. She tried to move to catch their attention, but her body wouldn't respond. Something in her chest felt … odd. Hollow. She wondered why the temperature was still dropping. Surely a hospital shouldn't be this cold?
"Why am I cold?" she asked, and almost flinched at the sound of her voice. It sounded wrong – too deep, too metallic, too robotic. It disconcerted her. Perhaps she had one of those things in her neck to help her breathe. She'd seen them do it on Casualty – people sticking pens in patients' throats to help them breathe.
Humans were very good at logically explaining away anything they didn't quite understand.
"Oh, my God, it's alive," she heard the woman say. She tried moving her head, but nothing worked. Even her eyes felt funny. She couldn't see properly, couldn't blink. Everything looked slightly out of focus. They must have taken out her contact lenses when she was in the accident. It was the only explanation. "It can feel," the woman continued.
"You broke the inhibitor," said the man, and he moved so that he was in her field of vision. He was still blurred, fuzzy, but she could make out brown hair and what looked like a tuxedo. He must have been the doctor on call. He must have been out somewhere and got called to her surgery. It was the only explanation. "I'm sorry," he said, reaching out for her. Why couldn't she feel him? "I'm SO sorry."
"Why so cold?" she asked.
"Can you remember your name?" the man asked gently. She thought for a moment, trying to recall …
"Sally," she said finally. "Sally Phelan."
"You're a woman?" the other woman asked. She was dressed oddly for a nurse – from what she could tell, the woman was swathed in black, with a shock of short white hair on her head. Funny … she didn't look that old … it must have been dyed, she thought. It was the only explanation. The man moved again, and she had a sudden thought.
"Where's Gareth?"
"Who's Gareth?" the woman asked.
"He can't see me," she said, feeling tired, drained. She felt like she was shutting down. She had to keep going, had to get better for tomorrow. "It's unlucky the night before."
"You're getting married?" She thought she could hear the woman fight back tears, but it was hard to tell from her surroundings. It was becoming harder and harder to keep logical thought.
"I'm cold," she repeated, almost shivering. "I'm so cold." She didn't think she had enough strength to carry on. If she could just take a little nap, recharge her batteries … the doctor would be able to help her. He looked like he knew what he was doing.
"It's alright," the man said. She felt something on her chest and felt warmth spread through her. She could almost feel her body now, and she smiled to herself. This man really was a doctor. He was going to help her. "You sleep now, Sally," he said quietly, and she obeyed. "Just go to sleep."
Sleep came, and with it came release.
It was the only explanation.
Sally Phelan was released from a fate worse than death … and all because of the kindness of strangers.